


Shameless

by taormina



Category: Take That (Band)
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Sex, curious!Robbie, please take my computer away from me, video shoots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:54:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4615581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taormina/pseuds/taormina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the shoot of the “Shame” video, and there are a lot of things that Robbie wants to ask Gary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shameless

‘Gaz?’

‘Yeah, Rob?’

‘Can I ask you something?’

A sigh, the “Here we go again”kind _._ ‘I have a feeling you’re gonna ask me anyway, mate.’

It was a bright summer day in Malibu. The boys had just filmed quite a substantial part of their brand new video in various sunny locations in Chatsworth, Los Angeles, and were now sat on the grass in the mountainous area where they’d later be shooting the rest of the video. It was the bit that Gary was most dreading: taking his fucking shirt off on top of a mountain with cameras all around him.

It’s not that Gary didn’t like his body, it’s just that he was hoping that he’d finally gain a bit more credibility now that he was almost in his forties!

Why they’d ever greenlit this video was beyond him, but at least it would get people talking. Or at least, it should do if the British media was anything to go by: they’d been pelting Gary with questions about Robbie ever since their comeback (“Now, about your new single _Shine_ . . .” “You and Robbie were seen at a football match together; what was that all about?” etcetera, etcetera), and all showbiz journalists would probably have a collective orgasm if they knew what he and Robbie (and three others . . .) were up to.

Robbie rubbed his nose. ‘Look, you don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to, all right, but —’ He thought about something and grinned boyishly. ‘Yeah, I’m gonna ask you anyway.’

‘Right.’ Gary nervously put down the sandwich that Robbie had kindly made for him and rubbed his hands on a napkin. The sandwich was a bit too rich on calories for him, but Gary hadn’t eaten all day, so he wasn’t entirely complaining. Besides, Robbie never made food for _anyone_. Until about a year or two ago, Gary didn’t even think Rob could cook.

Until about a year or two ago, Gary didn’t even _think_ of Rob.

‘Have you ever —’ Robbie looked around him as though making sure that they were alone (they were; all the crew had gone back to their air-conditioned hotels for a quick break) and took a deep breath. ‘Have you ever — have you ever . . . been with a guy? I mean, not, _you know_.’ He smiled at Gary nervously, and for some reason that made Gary’s heart beat a little faster. ‘I mean, you’re here with me _now_ , so that’s not what I mean. I mean . . . sexually,’ he added, uttering “sexually” under his breath as though it was a wrong word.

Gary’s cheeks turned scarlet. ‘Christ, Rob! What a question! Where did _that_ come from?’

Surrounded by rocks and trees that cast large shadows, Rob thought he could faintly smell the water from the pond where they’d be “fishing” in today’s shoot. A pleasant breeze ran over the boys’ summer-clad bodies. A native bird was merrily chirping away on a branch.

The environment seemed almost too pure for a question so shameless.

Robbie frowned as though saying “We _are_ in the middle of shooting a _Brokeback Mountain_ -inspired music video for our duet, you know”, and Gary sat a little straighter. He mindlessly brushed a few pieces of grass off his hands, and didn’t look Robbie in the eyes when he said ‘Right, okay. Um. No, Rob, I haven’t.’

That was, of course, a lie.

‘Oh. Okay, Gaz. Thanks.’

When Gary finally gained the courage to look at his mate again, Robbie seemed disappointed. _Too_ disappointed.

Gary immediately regretted lying to him about it.

Now that he thought about it, Gary wasn’t sure why he’d lied to Rob in the first place. Back when the band got back together (i.e. the original five, back in 2009), the boys instantly made a vow to never lie to each other, ever. Of course, this was long before Mark went and drank himself into oblivion every night, and a little after Jason had confessed to _maybe_ having “borrowed” one of Gary’s cookbooks.

So perhaps, in the end, the boys had all lied to each other in one way or another.

What else did the boys not know about each other?

‘Have _you_?’ mumbled Gary, eager to steer the chat away from himself. He shuffled awkwardly on the grass. Suddenly their little picnic didn’t seem so comfortable anymore.

Thinking about his friendship with Rob while his mate considered the question, Gary wasn’t sure whether he and Rob had even _reached_ the point in their relationship where they could talk about sex and relationships yet. Even today, after having months and months – _years_ – of re-acquaintance, Gary sometimes found it hard to figure Rob out. Sometimes he’d ask these strange, almost psychological questions in the middle of recording sessions (“Do you think having a lot of money makes you happy, Gaz?” “Do you ever think about what would have happened if you hadn’t done the documentary?”), and Gary never quite knew how to answer them.

Actually, he did: yes, most aspects of having a lot of money made him very happy.

Yes, he still thought about what would have happened if he hadn’t done the documentary every day.

‘No.’ Robbie fumbled with the ends of his jeans. He looked as flustered as Gary felt. ‘I haven’t.’

Where was this conversation going to?

Is this, then, what their rekindled friendship had let to? A frank conversation about sexuality?

‘Would you have liked to, though?’ said Robbie shyly. ‘You know, has there ever been a time when you saw a dude and you thought,’ he put on a mock voice and sort of scrunched up his nose for comic effect, ‘“Yeah, I’d definitely shag ‘im, all right.” Has — has there?’

Gary’s heart started beating a little faster.

_God, yes, Robbie, there has._

Gary swallowed. As usual, he had no idea how to deal with this series of questions. Naturally he knew the answers, but he’d never been that big on discussing his private life — let alone the sexual aspects thereof.

He liked sex. Christ, he _loved_ it, and when done with the right person it could be the highlight of his day. The highlight of his _week_ , even, and he’d always prided himself for being good at it. He knew how to keep a lover happy, and he knew that he didn’t exactly look awful naked. Nowadays he loved his body, even if he was doing a pretty damn good job at pretending he didn’t.

But that didn’t mean he liked discussing it. _Sex._

It makes you rather guarded, fame does; you never quite know where certain pieces of information will end up, so it’s usually best to just shut up and carry the burden of something on your own in case some journo or turncoat mate uses it against you. Not that he didn’t trust Rob, but this was his sexuality they were talking about!

‘I do remember saying I’d like to cuddle Prince in an interview once,’ Gary said in jest in the hopes of ending the conversation.

Robbie didn’t seem at all pleased with that answer, and squinted at Gary suspiciously.

‘I mean, Jesus, it’s a bit personal, your question is. I’ve —’ Gary thought about how best to answer the question without letting it slip that, yes, he _had_ once had a one-night-stand with a mutual male friend — while at the same time making it known that he did havean interest in men.

A little bit.

(Quite a lot, in fact.)

‘ _Maybe_ back in the nineties I would have, you know, after a really long night and half an E—’ Gary paused, unsure where that quasi-truthful sentence was going to go, ‘but I think after a while you just get so caught up with all the _girls_ at your hotel and in front of your house that you don’t really stop to think about what _else_ there is anymore.’

_Like boys_ , Gary thought.

‘Ooh!’ A squirrel ran past, and Rob was momentarily distracted.

Gary had done it, you know; one night he was so high on music and drugs and attention (it was just the one pill; Gary didn’t bother with drugs after that night anymore) that somehow, in some weird, colourful, fucked-up version of the world, Gary ended up in bed with one of his bandmates. They were both horny and just completely off their heads, and the next thing Gary knew they were rubbing their still-clothed cocks against each other. They both came inside their trousers embarrassingly quickly, and his partner rolled off of him and dozed off immediately.

Boys became interesting again after that night.

‘We did have fun, didn’t we, though, Gaz?’ said Robbie when the squirrel had disappeared. He started nervously plucking at pieces of grass, and something told Gary that their conversation hadn’t ended yet.

Gary smiled guiltily. ‘We sure did.’

There was an awkward silence as the recently reacquainted mates tried their hardest not to look at each other. Gary pondered whether pocketing another sandwich (which were quite good in hindsight, it had to be said) was worth the weight he’d undoubtedly gain while Robbie wondered which tree he could best hide in if this conversation went south.

‘Remember when we performed _I Found Heaven_ in Ashton and me trousers were suddenly round me ankles?’ said Robbie suddenly.

Gary frowned at this sudden change of topic. ‘That . . . didn’t go down well with the audience, did it?’

‘No . . . Thing is, though, Gaz,’ said Robbie, straightening as though he had just thought of something rather incredible, ‘and I know you’re gonna think I’m mental for thinking this, but bear with me — what if our . . . “feud”, let’s call it that, shall we? What if it was caused by something else?’

Gary blinked. ‘I don’t understand,’ he lied.

He understood perfectly.

‘Well, I’ve been thinking about how I was feeling at the time, and I think that maybe — apart from obviously being jealous at you for being such a great songwriter, etcetera . . .’ (Gary smiled smugly at this; he did _love_ it when Robbie complimented him.) ‘I think I might’ve fancied you a little bit.’

Gary’s heart made an odd sort of jump, and he stared at Robbie dumbstruck until he remembered that it was his cue to talk. ‘You fancied me?’

‘You _were_ very attractive at the time, Gaz.’

Gary scoffed. ‘Thanks . . . !’

‘No, I mean, you’re still attractive _now_ , Gaz, but — I’m serious, I think I fancied you,’ Robbie said, and Gary knew instantly that he meant it. Every word.

Robbie. Fancied. Him.

Gary, of course, had long known that his rivalry with Robbie was about much more than just songwriting and chart positions. Gary had secretly fancied/admired Robbie ever since he first laid eyes on him at the auditions for the band, but Robbie was such a cheeky chap and a “lad’s lad” that Gary sort of just assumed that he was only into girls. Gary never did anything to get Rob to notice him romantically (and why _should_ he?), and his feelings and curiosity were mostly swept under the carpet when girls soon started throwing themselves at Gary’s feet dozens at a time.

Then Robbie left the band and all hell froze over, and Gary suddenly remembered how much he genuinely, genuinely liked Robbie. And not just from a purely sexual or romantic point of view: he _liked_ Robbie. He loved being with him. He loved the joy and tummy-slapping laughs that accompanied Rob at every turn. He loved the lyrics that Gary knew Rob wrote in secret every night.

Gary would’ve told him so if not for the media turning their so-called “argument” into a full-blown feud.

But to know that Robbie probably felt the same way?

That changed _everything_.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ said Gary, his voice uncharacteristically soft. The hairs at the back of his neck stood up just thinking about that could have been: the first kisses in the back of tour buses; wistful glances in recording studios; no media frenzy trying to tear the both of them apart; spending the night with Rob all those years ago, not with . . . _him_.

Not year after year spent hiding away in his house, unsure whether he wanted to be Rob or be _with_ him.

He wanted to be with him.

‘Well, I would of, but I couldn’t cos I was too busy thinking I hated you,’ was Robbie’s reply.

Gary bit his lip. His heart was racing fast now. There was an interest building in his stomach that he only ever felt when drawing out the plans for a tour with his bandmates, that nervous excitement when an accountant or a creative director tells you, “This is how much money you can spend. Please don’t spend it all on a giant elephant or something” — and then you end up doing exactly that.

The possibilities were infinite.

Yet, how to go about it? Gary didn’t know what Robbie was like as a potential partner, not now that they were both more or less mature anyway. He’d heard the rumours, of course, about threesomes and models and one-night stands at hotels, but for all he knew Robbie was actually a romantic lad, and all the rumours mere fibs to make Robbie seem even larger than life.

But then Gary remembered the puns and self-deprecating humour that he loved Robbie for back in the nineties, and he _knew_.

‘You know, now that I think about it I might’ve fancied you too,’ said Gary slowly, ‘but it was _obviously_ just envy cos you were so busy being a pop star and everything. How _did_ your stint with Oasis go again? Not good, eh?’ he added with his tongue inside his cheek, and he knew that he had Robbie right where he wanted him to.

What he wouldn’t give to tease him properly!

‘Prick,’ said Robbie, smiling. He had moved a little closer. His lips were parted and his pupils dilated, and he appeared to have flushed a dark shade of red. His eyes sparkling, the way they only did when he was planning a prank on Howard or Jay, he said, in an almost journalistic sort of voice, ‘Would you have acted upon your feelings if you weren’t so preoccupied writing pop songs for other people cos you couldn’t get any hits yourself?’

‘You _bastard_!’ cried Gary, but he didn’t mean it; the utterance was slick with arousal, and he couldn’t help but give Rob a sly once-over. Besides, Robbie was bang on: Gary was an utter shambles during those years. And the songs he wrote? Just awful. Looking back at it now, it was as though he’d entered some strange parallel universe in which everything was fucked up and nothing went his way, and he was happy to have crawled out of it. He could even laugh about it now.

But at least he could walk into Waitrose without being mobbed in those days.

_Fucking hell, Robbie looked good in those tight jeans._

‘I might’ve, yeah,’ Gary added, almost huskily. He’d never noticed how pretty Robbie’s mouth was.

Robbie smiled cheekily. ‘And what would you have done then — Mr. Barlow?’

_Oh, Christ._

Gary licked his lips as he thought about it. He couldn’t stop looking at Robbie and those beautiful, tattoo-covered arms of his. He would literally give up every single Brit Award and Ivor Novello in exchange for a taste that inked skin, and a look at all the other tattoos that Gary knew where there, but had never had the privilege of seeing.

‘I would’ve . . . God, I don’t know, Rob, I can’t think of anything now!’

‘C’mon, Gaz,’ Robbie urged him. ‘If you knew that I knew that you fancied me, and we were both _horny_ , consenting adults, okay,’ he added as an afterthought, ‘without drugs and alcohol in our systems, what would you have done?’

Again with the questions!

Did Robbie ever stop being curious?

Gary was sweating now. His mind was completely blank. ‘Um.’

Rob poked Gary’s side. ‘Oh come _on_! Surely you’ve thought about it?’

He had. Time and time again, until Gary couldn’t think of new ways to confess to Robbie anymore. Until, at the end of the day, the thing that Gary wanted most was just him and Rob in a recording studio together, writing song after song after their wrists ached and their voices were raw. _That’s_ what he wanted, and it had come true. So now the only thing that was left, was . . .

Gary cleared his throat. ‘I guess I would’ve . . . pushed you up against the wall of me recording studio and . . .’

Robbie leaned forward. ‘Yes? _Gaz_?’

_God, Gary._

‘. . . And I would’ve kissed you until . . .’

Gary imagined kissing Robbie in his recording studio when they were still young; curious hands wandering everywhere, innocent kisses quickly becoming open-mouthed and needy. He wondered who would have been the first to crack: Gary, shy and romantic, but God damn horny every time he saw Rob back in the early days, with his cool hair and much more fashionable clothes than anything Gary had ever owned; or Rob, cheeky and dirty-mouthed, and with clearly more knowledge of sex than Gary had at the time.  

‘Until . . . ?’

_Just tell him. Bloody hell._

‘Until you were so aroused that . . .’

Gary felt a dry lump in his throat. Robbie had practically admitted liking him. There was no going back now. But _God_ , had he imagined this moment to be different. He’d never even dared getting back in touch with Rob, let alone letting him in on his fantasies on top of a bloody mountain!

‘Until you literally _begged_ me to make love to you on the floor,’ said Gary finally, his voice no more than a whisper, and he felt a guilty thrill when he saw that Robbie had just flushed an even deeper shade of red.

Clearly Robbie had considered it too.

Robbie looked at Gary’s wet lips. There was a hunger in his eyes that Gary had never seen before. ‘I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if we —’

‘Hm.’

In a moment of spontaneity, Gary leaned in and pressed his lips on Robbie’s softly, and it immediately felt like it was the _one_ thing they should always have been doing. It wasn’t dirty or messy; instead, the boys sort of just sat there with their mouths pushed together, eyes closed, their hands hovering awkwardly over each other’s bodies.

It wasn’t until the smell of Gary’s cologne caught Robbie’s nose that Rob parted his mouth in a gasp, and Gary gently slid his tongue inside. Gary’s facial hair scraped Robbie’s skin while they kissed a bit more passionately, and Robbie thought he might pass out.

‘Jesus, Gaz . . . !’ cried Robbie when Gary’s lips moved to the tattoo on his neck. It felt incredibly tingly.

‘ _What_?’ said Gary innocently, but not without sounding a little bit smug. They hadn’t even kissed properly yet, and already Robbie was looking at him like he was about to sport a fucking semi.

This was going a lot better than Gary could ever have imagined. 

‘I’m —’ Robbie shook his head minutely as though momentarily in shock. ‘Jesus, I’m fucking turned on by this, mate. I’m not surprised you’ve started growing a beard to be honest with you, Gaz.’

Gary chuckled. ‘You big baby.’

But the feeling was mutual: Gary cupped Robbie’s face with his large hands and kissed him again, even more passionately this time. Robbie wrapped his long arms around Gary’s strong frame and pulled him closer. Both so overwhelmed by it all that they could hardly stay upright, they ended up lying on top of each other on the grass (Gary on top), kissing and cuddling and touching body parts that they’d never even dared _dream_ of.

When Gary broke off the kiss five short minutes later, they were both panting. Gary’s right hand had crept into Rob’s jeans unceremoniously, where it lingered right before an extremely obvious bulge.

‘D’you know what,’ said Gary slyly, kissing Rob’s neck until his mate arched his back in delight, ‘I think we should just cancel the shoot of the video now; I don’t think the camera will be able to handle your hard-on when you see me take me clothes off later.’

Robbie blushed. ‘That’s — that’s me phone, that is,’ he said unconvincingly.

Gary kissed him again. ‘ _Shame_.’

**Author's Note:**

> Part of me feels like I should probably apologise for writing so many Take That fics...


End file.
